“Not at all,” she clasps my shoulder. “You and the other boys are practically my other children.”
The day my mother humiliated Charleigh, I went home long enough to grab some extra clothes and came straight here. This feels more like home than anywhere else. And…I didn’t know where else to go.
“It won’t be permanent,” I promise. It’s not the Fosters’ job to help me get on my feet, but I’m beyond grateful that they’re helping in any way they can.
“Oh, sweetie. You stay as long as you need to.”
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I nod. What do I say to that?
A few weeks ago, I put in an application for a job in sales. I’ve never had to work in my life, but it’s time. I need a way to provide for my daughter and find a place to live. They haven’t called me back yet, and I’m wondering if I should stop hoping on this one job.
I haven’t even told Tonya that I plan on transferring to a university closer to home yet. Possibly even the local college. I don’t even care if I can play football, as long as I’m here for Layla whenever she may need me. It may be a difficult road to go down, but she is worth it.
And, I’ll be close to Charleigh. If she’ll ever speak to me again. If she reacted like that toward my mom’s comments, how is she going to accept that I have a child? I’m not saying that her reaction to Mom is unjustified because it is, but I can handle not seeing my parents. I can’t handle not seeing Layla. Now that I’m starting to build a relationship with her, I can’t go back to the way I was before. I won’t go back to being that douchebag.
The water bottle is ice cold, sweat already dripping down the sides, as I stand to go to Marshall’s room. Before I leave the kitchen, I turn back to Mrs. Foster. “Hey, Mrs. Foster,” I ask. “Does Mr. Foster happen to know of anyone that’s hiring?”
She places her fingertips on her chin thinking. “You know, he mentioned the other day they were looking to bring on a couple more apprentices. The work is hard, but I think you would do just fine.”
Plumbing is definitely not something I want to make a career out of, but I don’t think working with Mr. Foster would be horrible. It’s honest work, and something that may be good for me. My parents never really cared for The Fosters because they see their jobs as something beneath them. From the outside looking in, I can see how horribly flawed and snobby they really are. I’ll do everything in my power not to turn out like them
“Thank you,” I pause. “I put in a couple of applications around town, and I haven’t heard back from anybody. But, I really need a job.” My voice is a little shakey, worry creeping in. I really need any sort of job.
“I completely understand, Jake.” Her eyes are shimmering, looking at me with a softness that only a mother can. A tinge of sympathy, but also a spark of pride because I’m doing something about my situation. It’s the way I wish my mother would look at me sometimes.
Marshall is sitting at his desk, feet propped up next to the computer with a copy ofBeowulfin his hands. He doesn’t even bother looking at me when I come the room and make my way to the little cot they pulled out of the garage so I would have a place to sleep.
The cot is ridiculously uncomfortable. There is no support, just a piece of fabric stretched across the frame to hold my body up. Marshall smirks at me from behind his book.
“What’s so funny, jackass?”
“Nothing,” he laughs. “You just look funny on that thing. How does your body even fit on there?”
The frame squeaks as I move to find a more comfortable position. “Very, very carefully.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t just sleep on the sofa like a normal person.”
“Because,” I reply. “I don’t want to interfere with your family more than I already have. I feel like a huge inconvenience.”
Marshall sets his book down, placing a bookmark between the pages before he lets go of the cover. “How many times have I told you that it’s fine you’re here? If it were in any way inconvenient, my parents wouldn’t have let you stay.” He rolls his chair away from the desk. “They look at you as one of their sons. Do you think they would turn me away in a time of need?” He waits for my response and when I only stare at him, he continues. “No, they wouldn’t. So, stop moping and welcome to the damn family.”
“I get that, but it’s still weird.” I cover my face with my hands, take a deep breath in, and slowly let it out. “I just feel really shitty, and like I can’t do anything right. Charleigh won’t talk to me. My parents treat me like an asset instead of a child, and I can’t do anything right in their eyes.” Placing my hand on my stomach, I take another deep breath, using this moment to cleanse myself of everything that’s bothering me. “The only person who is ever happy to see me is Layla, and that’s because she’s not old enough to know any better. It’s only a matter of time until I screw up and let her down.”
A cheesy grin takes over his face, and he bats his eyelashes at me. “I’m happy to see you,” he says. His voice is high pitched, trying to mimic a girl’s, but he’s failing miserably.
This is why he’s my closest friend. He does whatever he can to cheer me up, even when I feel like I don’t deserve it. We have a friendship as close as the one Tonya and Cami have, and I’m more than grateful for that.
“How about…you don’t make eyes at me again,” I say, laughing.
“Why?” He bats his lashes again. “Do you not find me attractive?”
“You aren’t exactly my type.”
“Well, what is your type?” He’s digging. He wants me to admit that I have deeper feelings for Charleigh than I’ve admitted to everyone else but myself.
“Last time I checked, you don’t have long blonde hair, or ink on your arms and in other places most people don’t get to see.”
He lifts the sleeve of his shirt showing off the tattoos Bianca has done for him. “I may not be blonde, but I do have the ink.” He winks. The sleeve of his shirt falls, covering his new obsession with tattoos. “You need to call her.”